Heaven
by skepsis66
Summary: Ever wondered what happened after Hinata's mother died? A possibility: "The boy’s head snapped up and Hinata took a step back. Her hands rose to her mouth involuntarily – he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Blue enough to make the sky jealous..."


**Disclaimer:** If I were... Masashi Kishimoto - yes, that dude - I wouldn't have to go onto Wikipedia in order to spell my name. Or indeed, to even know my name.

**A/N: **Just something that snuck up on me one day. Crawled into my mind when I was writing a story for my English exam.

**Heaven**

The long corridors were thick with an unpleasant, sterilized smell. The stale scent filled her lungs and made her heart drum in her chest, filling it with dread and sorrow. Hinata did not like the hospital – not one bit. Her hands were tucked into the larger hands of her father. His palms were clammy and she could feel them trembling. Her quiet footsteps rang in tandem with his as they walked in silence.

Hinata craned her neck to look at her father. She felt a little better as she watched his familiar face. He was more tired than usual – the lines on his stern face had deepened, making him look haggard. His perpetually glossy, neat hair was dishevelled, with tufts of brown sticking out awkwardly. His eyes were bloodshot and his yukata rumpled. Hinata's feet dragged dejectedly as her father led her down the hallway.

They stopped at a numbered doorway – Room number 204 – one Hinata had become very familiar with the last few years. Her little body shook, which brought a small, barely-there squeeze of her hand by her father. The blinds in the room were unshuttered, letting in a watery light that filtered through the closed window. The same scuffed tile-stones and too-clean walls in the corridor decorated the tiny room, but somehow, this place seemed more desolate, the stifling atmosphere banishing any hope that may have existed.

A foetid, musty smell overlaid the chemical scent that lingered in the hallway. It made Hinata's stomach turn and her nose wrinkle. The lonely bed that lay in the centre of the room terrified her. The clean white sheets, now crumpled and twisted around the figure in the bed, seemed garishly bright. Mechanical beeps sounded from somewhere in the chaos of wires, tubing and flashing boxes that surrounded the bed.

Gazing upon the figure lying upon the hospital bed, her heart constricted, stuttering fearfully, as if somebody was squeezing and squeezing until she could not help but let out a wounded gasp. Pale, almost translucent skin stretched over the fragile bones of the woman in the bed. An emaciated chest rose and fell, chill breaths rattling through thin lips. A sharp twinge in Hinata's hand alerted her to her father's hands, which were clenched so hard that his knuckles seemed to protrude from his skin.

Standing by her mother's bedside, Hinata wanted to avert her eyes. She wished that she was anywhere else but there, her head churning with a multitude of half-formed thoughts and feelings. Her eyes stung, but she stubbornly kept the tears at bay.

"Hinata," Her father said in a tight voice. "You know that your mother has been ill for a while now, correct?"

Hinata nodded tentatively. They had been visiting the hospital for a long time, in her eyes. She grasped her mother's stiff hand in one of her own, using her other hand to smooth back the hair from her mother's sweaty brow. Hiashi's pale eyes softened at the sight.

"You do not want her to hurt anymore, do you, Hinata?"

"No," Hinata replied, voice shaking. She could not stop the tears from overflowing. The ball of fear in her stomach grew bigger and bigger – she knew she would not like what her father would say next.

"Well," Hiashi swallowed before composing himself, "Soon she will not have to be ill any longer. Her pain will go away and she will be happy. Just like she used to be. She will never have to suffer again…"

Her father's smile was horrifying. His lips were twisted and his eyes were the saddest, saddest things she had ever seen. She never knew that white could be so sad. Hinata felt chilled. She knew, somewhere, in her childish heart that this was not a good thing.

"But… But I want her to stay. Why does she have to go!" Hinata demanded, stomping her little feet. Hot tears of denial burned her cheeks.

"Hinata! Behave yourself!" She quailed under her father's strict glare. Hiashi's gaze softened once more as he looked upon his sad, confused daughter. "Your mother must leave to get better. She is going to a very beautiful place. With those pretty flowers she always liked, and where the sun always shines."

"But why can't we fix her here?" She asked. "I-I promise I'll be good if she doesn't go." Her mother should be here with her. Didn't she know how much Hinata missed her? Was it because she didn't love her mother enough?

Her insides churned in confusion and despair, "Doesn't she love me anymore?"

"Your mother loves you very much, it is -"

"Then why does she have to leave us! Why won't she get better?"

"Hinata, the medics do not have the right resources to heal your mother. So," his voice faltered, "so she has to go to Heaven, with the flowers. Do you understand?"

A knot of dread began to form in Hinata's stomach. A horrible, terrible idea took root in her head.

"And then she'll come home to us, right, father?" She whispered, eyes wide.

Hiashi looked down to the floor.

"But she's coming back!" Hinata screamed desperately, "She's coming back and we'll be happy together!"

Before her father could respond, the beeping from the boxes changed. The green spiky lines went flat and the noise became a constant roar, deafening her teary protests. Hinata felt a wave of panic wash over her when her father released an agonized groan and hollered for a medic.

People in white rushed in from the corridor, shoving her to a corner of the room. A lady with strict bundled hair held her away from her parents while she struggled, lashing out with her small fists. Childish grief splintered her heart as her body shuddered from her wracking sobs and waves of loss stole her breath. And Hinata knew, with a flash of awful understanding, that wherever her mother was going, wherever Heaven and the angels were, she was never going to come back.

She flung herself away from the lady and fled, away from the nauseating terror of claustrophobic rooms and anonymous people. She ran and ran and ran – the further she was from that place, the better it would be. Hinata fancied herself the fastest being in all existence at that moment, heart pumping (_bleeding_), feet pounding against the floor.

She ignored all the alarmed cries as she barrelled around legs and corners. She had to get away. The streets, empty of people at this early hour, were cold and harsh, but Hinata hardly noticed. A few of the villagers were only just setting up shop as she swept past, yukata grimy and face streaked with tears. She was six and lost and running.

Hinata's feet subconsciously led her to the park nearby, its grass encrusted with the dew that had settled there overnight. Still sniffling slightly, the girl stumbled towards the swings, before suddenly stopping. Squinting, she spotted something beneath the slight shelter that the play equipment provided. Inching closer, she was startled to see a tuft of blonde hair jutting from the ball.

It was a boy, around her age – a ragged brown coat covering his shivering form and mismatched shoes protecting his feet. His arms encircled bony knees, his face hidden from view behind the collar of the tattered coat.

"H-hello." Hinata stuttered, quickly wiping away her tears.

The boy's head snapped up and Hinata took a step back. Her hands rose to her mouth involuntarily – he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Blue enough to make the sky jealous.

"Who're you?" The boy asked, face alight with curiosity. He face was tan and streaked with dirt, but his eyes peered out with a burning intensity. He adjusted his position, stretching his legs out in front of him and tilting his head.

"I-I'm Hinata," she whispered. She was startled when she hiccuped, and flushed with embarrassment.

His eyes crinkled with a smile. "That's a nice name. What're you doing here?"

"I don't know."

"Well, did'ja wanna sit next to me?" They boy patted the space beside him.

"Oh, o-okay."

Hinata timidly ventured forward and sat down next to the odd boy. She curled her arms around her legs, just like he did, and rested her chin on her knees. She wanted to say something, to ask him why he was here and what his name was, but she was afraid to break the silence that had settled over them.

"Y'know, this is the first time anyone's wanted to sit next to me."

Hinata started at his voice, and his unexpected comment. "Really?"

He grinned. "Yeah… hey Hinata?"

She glanced at him.

"Whatever's botherin' you… it'll get better someday."

"But s-she's not coming back!" Hinata retorted angrily, tears welling up once more, surging to her feet before she could stop herself. "She's never going to come back a-and it will just be father and me and father's always too busy. I'll be alone again." She deflated, dropping back down. "I-I don't want to be alone."

The boy gave a sad, understanding quirk of his lips. "Nobody wants to be alone… Y'know, ojiji once told me 'bout this place called Heaven. He said that whoever went there wouldn't ever be sad or sick again and that everyone there's always happy. Sounds like a mighty nice place, huh?"

"That," she hiccuped, "that's the place my mother's going."

"Y'think so?"

"Yes." Hinata replied, her voice catching.

"Well, that's good." The blue in the boy's eyes seemed to swallow up everything around them. "Maybe she'll meet my mum and dad there too."

The girl squeezed her eyes shut, letting out her breath with a gentle whoosh. Suddenly, sitting on the rough bark in a playground beside a strange boy and staring at nothing at all, Hinata didn't feel quite so horrible any more.

* * *

So... what do you think? Good, bad? Dare I say it... terrible? 1st Naruto fic, btw - and something completely unexpected since I only ever really read action these days. But I suppose good adventure stories always have to have scenes such as these - moments like this totally make a story. Sentimental crap and all. But good sentimental crap - which always tends to make me cry even when I don't realize it and... now I really know you aren't reading this anymore.

And the universal catchphrase of fanfiction: Review, Review, Review!


End file.
